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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378509">Slow Dance With You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder'>jay_of_the_beholder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Airships, Awkward Romance, Bad Puns, Dancing, Drinking, M/M, Post-Japan Arc, Slow Dancing, Waltzing, Wine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:15:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oscar is tired, and Zolf has had a long day. They decide to have a little wine and practice slow dancing. Puns ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slow Dance With You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't know what the song is, but it's a slow baroque song.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilde frowns down at the papers in front of him, tapping the end of his pen on the desk. He can’t focus, hasn’t been able to for a while now. He can feel the hours dragging on and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hasn’t gotten enough done.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Three short knocks sound at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in Zolf,” he says automatically, recognizing the familiar pattern. On the day Zolf doesn’t knock, he’ll know something is wrong. But Zolf comes in and Wilde looks up to see a tired dwarf pull over a chair and fall into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf runs a hand over his face. “You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> idea.” He sighs and his eyes drift over. “Got anything strong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde gives a small, crooked smile and hands over the bottle he’d been working on from under the desk. Zolf takes it and drinks straight from it, so Wilde merely sighs and pulls out another. He pours a glass and offers an ear to Zolf, who has begun to rant about Earhart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> captain, she's just not a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> one. And I mean, I get it, right? I do. But being sad’s not an excuse to just put yer crew in danger. She’s talkin’ about these things she wants to get done while we’re here and I’m worried about most of ‘em. I swear if she tries somethin’...” he shakes his head and takes another swig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde gets up with his glass, walking over to the small player in the corner to put a record on. It helps, usually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know my feelings about the captain,” he says simply, moving the arm to rest on the vinyl. “But she’s transporting us. We haven’t got many other options.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf sighs. “Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dwarf watches him as he makes his way back over to the desk, shifting a few papers and setting down his glass before extending a hand to Zolf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf smiles a bit. “After last time? I doubt I’ve gotten better in my sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde shrugs. “You never know. Come on, I’ve put on the easy song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had, in fact, put on a slow waltz; one he knows Zolf is more comfortable dancing to. The dwarf in question sighs and stands, walking over to stand in front of Wilde. He reaches over to set the bottle next to the glass, then takes his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on Wilde, let’s see if you’ve gotten rusty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assure you I’m still perfectly capable of dancing, Mr. Smith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf, however, is no good at dancing by any means. His legs are clunky and he has little to no grace. But the feeling of the sailor’s calloused hand in his and watching him look down to make sure his feet are in the right place, makes dancing with him well worth it to Wilde. There isn’t much room in the small corner of the ship, but they make do. After a few moments he subconsciously starts humming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steady, Wilde,” Zolf says with a cheeky look, and Wilde rolls his eyes. He continues to hum, though, because he notices the small changes in Zolf’s posture, the relaxation of his shoulders and the softer grip Zolf has on his hand and waist. Eventually, he gathers some semblance of a rhythm, and looks up at Wilde with a smug, proud look. He gives an impressed one back, and for a moment they dance in perfectly synchronized movements. Only a moment though, because Wilde’s corner is a mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels the heel of his shoe catch a paper before he slips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde’s eyes squeeze shut as he expects the impact of the floor. Instead, he falls into a strong arm, his hand still entwined with Zolf’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not rusty, eh Oscar?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes to see Zolf’s teasing gaze, and little to no control over the gravity pulling him toward the ground; the dwarf’s arm stopping it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A perfect dip, I’m impressed,” his voice does not come out nearly as confidently as he wants it to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf shrugs. “What can I say?” Wilde is pulled up by one hand and the other at his waist draws him close. “I guess there was a dip in my dancing skills, but it’s looking up now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde blinks; opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf lets out a short laugh. “Better than some of yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde makes an offended noise. “Really Mr. Smith, it’s impolite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Waltzing</span>
  </em>
  <span> in here like you own the place, showing me up, then insulting me--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh that was so bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>bar</span>
  </em>
  <span> is low but I couldn’t possibly--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Wilde</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“--stand for such impoliteness I mean what’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pointe--</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf is laughing now, and Wilde feels a wide smile tugging at his scar. “Shut up. Yer just doing ballet puns now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, still smiling lightly. “Puns are puns, Mr. Smith.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf looks up at him, gives him an odd look, and the song ends. It’s for too much of a disappointment when Zolf steps away to grab the bottle again, taking another swig.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Oscar. I think I needed that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you needed that,” Wilde says, carefully returning his face to a resting expression and picking up the glass. He leans on the other side of Zolf, and they’re silent for a moment as they drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you sleep last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde shrugs. “A bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf glances at him. “Enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I assure you I’m fine Zolf... “ he allows a bit of a smile. “But thank you for asking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course.” Zolf watches him for a moment, then nods once and stands properly. “Well I should… uh--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes you’ve got to be up early again tomorrow I’m sure--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah so I should…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde nods once. “Yes. Be sure to get some rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you too. Don’t let me catch you falling asleep on duty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye aye, Mr. Smith,” Wilde says with a mock salute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf snorts. “G’night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Zolf.” The door closes, and Wilde is alone again, a glass in his hand and a warm feeling in his chest...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…and still no motivation to get this work done.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wilde go to sleep challenge 2020.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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